


They Wish They Were Dreaming

by TheShadowPanther



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Crack, Gen, Has Sequel, Humor, Supernatural Elements, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowPanther/pseuds/TheShadowPanther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Oh, </em>gross<em>, that is absolutely </em>disgusting<em>," McKay groaned, though at an appreciably quiet level.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	They Wish They Were Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> My first SGA fic, and _this _is what my brain comes up with. Thank you ever so, cliche_bingo. *headdesk of shame* Nonetheless, I've gotten some pretty good feedback on this so far, so I suppose it can't be all bad. *Evil grin* Please enjoy and be warned for some graphic language as well as zombie crack.
> 
> Thanks go to Cass Pierson (ca_pierson) for getting me the cliche_bingo card, and to both her and Melinda Pierson (darkmoore) for encouraging me to jump into the foray of writing SGA at long last. Couldn't have done it without you two!

"Uh . . ." John cocked his head. "Are . . . are they . . . ?"

McKay and Ronon were staring too. "I, for once in my admittedly brilliant life," McKay said, "have absolutely no clue what to say to . . . to that." One hand waved expansively at the scene happening in front of them.

Ronon just grunted and gripped his blaster a little more tightly.

"Wow, Rodney," John said absently, still staring. "Uh, guys, not to sound . . . weird, or anything, but maybe we should . . ."

"Run away? Oh, yes, Colonel, what an excellent idea!" Rodney's voice carried too loud across the open plain, as usual used at entirely the wrong time.

John hissed, "Get down!" and shoved McKay to the ground; Ronon had already flattened into a crouch. There was some log or gnarly root or other that they could hide behind that wasn't far away; within seconds John had tugged McKay behind it, Ronon already there and peering over.

"Don't seem to be looking at us," he reported with a grunt. John nodded, but adjusted his grip on his P-90 anyway. Never knew when he'd need it these days.

"Oh, _gross_, that is absolutely _disgusting_," McKay groaned, though at an appreciably quiet level. He was also peering over the top of the log, gnarly root, thing and making rather hilarious faces, so of course John had to see what disgusted Atlantis' Chief Scientific Officer so. Not much that did so anymore, despite all Rodney's complaints otherwise.

John ended up staring as much as Rodney did.

From behind their not-log, they could see what was happening perfectly: At least three pairs of . . . John wouldn't exactly call them _people_, per se, but they were definitely, definitely humanoid—not-people were _dancing_. Now, that wouldn't have been so weird in of itself, had not the humanoids strangely represented what people on Earth liked to call—"

"Zombies. Dancing." Rodney huffed a laugh. "Now I _know_ I'm dreaming. Pinch me, won't you, Colonel, so I can get back to the _good_ dream now? You know, the one with the ZedPM—"

"Sorry, Rodney, but this isn't a dream. You're just as awake as me and Ronon are."

"Pfft. How do you know you're not dreaming? I mean, we could all be sharing the same dream here—scientifically impossible, of course, not to mention soft science voodoo—but this is the Pegasus Galaxy—"

"Shut. Up." Ronon's growl did its magic. Rodney fell silent immediately, casting a sidelong glance out of his eye. John had to grin at that, even as Rodney jerked back with a choked-off cry.

"What? What is it, Rodney? McKay!" John didn't remember how he'd gotten his P-90 up or one hand on his best friend's shoulder, but Rodney had his eyes covered and was muttering:

"No, no, _no_, I did not just see that, I did _not_, this is all just a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dream—"

"Sheppard." Ronon indicated over the log with his dreadlocked head. John pointed his P-90 down again, making sure it was _away_ from McKay (no need to give him _more_ to complain about, after all), and stuck his head again beyond the log.

Okay, he could see where Rodney was coming from.

The pair dancing closest to them had their arms wrapped around each other, disgusting grey flesh hanging off of their bones, and were _kissing_, mashing their faces together in a graceless liplock. That wasn't the worst part of it, though; the worst part was how the flesh around the zombies' mouths slid around, slowly merging into a single goopy mess at the junction of mouth to mouth. On second glance, they were stuck like that in other places, too, and John did _not_ need the not-so-mental imagery of zombies grinding against each other, thank you very much. He had been having such a nice streak of uninterrupted sleep this week, too.

Looked like that was out the window.

"Okay, guys, I've had enough of this. What say we make tracks back to the Gate, find Teyla, and get out of here? I've the sudden urge for a shower. Ronon, you take our six. I'll keep an eye on McKay and see if we can't ask Atlantis to open the gate a little early for us."

Ronon nodded, face nearly inscrutable except for the slight twitch at one corner of his mouth. Hefting his blaster, he settled comfortably into his crouch again, keeping one eye on the zombies (and now there were _sounds_ to go with it, awful _gloop-gloop_ noises that in no way increased John's urge to take a shower, nope, no, sir) and the other on the small game trail behind them that hopefully would lead them back to the Stargate. Rodney was already digging out his scanner, muttering waspishly under his breath. All John had to do was get ready for the run back to the Gate. Or at least a very fast walk.

"Ready, McKay?" he asked, eyes already roving left and right for possible enemies, such as, you know, _more_ dripping zombies. He had taken half a step forward when McKay was there, thankfully, and pointing the way. (With mumbled imprecations on John's sense of direction and how it would take them _forever_ to get off this awful, moronic rock—seriously, _zombies_? As if the _Wraith_ weren't bad enough—thrown in.)

Behind them, Ronon's voice rumbled, "Go," and they really couldn't have gotten away from there fast enough.

_That_ was one planet they were definitely crossing off. _Cheerfully_.

**FIN **


End file.
